“That’s not your department. I’ll make that decision when the time comes. Just make sure I have a copy of the cage specs.” Beston turned to a woman just a couple of seats along from Milly. “Zetter. Any progress?”

The woman had a thin vulpine face with a sharp nose. She must have slipped in late, and very quietly, because Milly had surveyed everyone in the room when she first arrived.

Zetter — first name? last name? — did not stand up. She leaned forward, so that Milly was presented with only a quarter profile, and shook her head in a slow, reptilian manner. “Not as of four hours ago. I received a report from—”

“No names. You know the rules.”

“I wasn’t about to.” The woman sniffed. “I received a report from our source at L-5 four hours ago. Odin is tightening security on all fronts.”

“Of course. The Bastard is as worried about leaks as we are. Any peepholes?”

“Too soon to say. Maybe one weak point — human, not equipment.”

“Better. You can’t buy a machine. How much?”

“I don’t know yet. Pricey. You get what you pay for.”

“Or less. Get onto it again. Tell our source we don’t want general information. If it’s not decrypt methods—” Jack Beston stopped in mid-sentence. His green eyes, apparently staring at nothing, had suddenly focused their glare on Milly. “You in the back. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

It was a direct question, the kind that supervisor Hannah Krauss had told her to answer. But it wasn’t one that Milly understood. She sat frozen.

“Who are you?” Beston barked. “What’s your name?”

“Milton Wu.”

“Milton?” Beston moved to peer at her body. “What sort of a fucking name is that? You’re no man.”

“No.” Milly, as always since the age of thirteen, was conscious of her too-large breasts. “Milton is my real name, a family name. But everyone calls me Milly.”

“She’s new. Only been here six days.” Hannah Krauss was trying to divert Jack Beston’s anger. It didn’t work.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if she’s been here just six minutes. And I’m not talking to you, Krauss.” He pointed straight at Milly’s crotch. “What’s that?”

He meant the scribe plate sitting on her lap. He had to mean the scribe plate. They had already established that she was a woman. Milly felt herself blushing. “I thought I ought to make notes. I have a lot to learn.”

“You can say that again. Tell me this, Milly Wu. Are we safe inside a cage, so no E/M signals get out?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“I’ll tell you. We are not. You’ve been writing on that thing?”

“Yes, sir. Just notes. Squiggles. In condensed Post notation.”

“Which are converted to words for storage. Converted electromagnetically.” Jack Beston turned to the woman on Milly’s right. “Zetter? Are you on?”

“Yes.” She opened her jacket, peered at something inside, and the thin nose twitched. “So is she. I’m picking up and recording. Not interpreting, but that’s an easy piece of processing. Unless we’re shielded, the reception range for that strength of signal will be at least five kilometers.”

“Which might as well be infinity. Look around you, Milly Wu. Do you see anybody else making electronic notes?”

Milly looked. Neutral stares, except for Hannah’s rueful rubber-lipped quirk. Sorry. I ought to have warned you.

“No, sir.”

“And you won’t. This is a maximum security installation. We don’t let anybody know how we’re doing. We are going to be the first to pick up and decipher an alien signal, and nothing is going to stop us. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Milly, greatly daring, added, “I want to be part of the team that gets there first. That’s why I came here.”

“Damn right. Can you do hand-writing, on paper?”

“Yes, sir, I can.” Thank heaven for Uncle Edgar, and his insistence on an old-fashioned education.

“Then that’s what you do, if you want notes. Hand that thing over.”

He took the scribe plate and casually erased everything on it — including all that Milly had noted about the geography and operations of the L-4 Argus Station.

“You want notes,” Beston repeated, “you write ’em on paper.”

“Yes, sir.” He was turning away as she added, “But that’s a permanent record, too. What do I do with paper notes?”

He swung back to her. “You learn what’s there, or you put what you have on e-file inside the cage. Either way, you destroy your original notes. Burn ’em, eat ’em, swallow ’em, stick ’em up your ass, I don’t care. Just get rid of them — fast. I’m giving you one chance, Milly Wu. That’s all you’ll get.”

He turned away. “Poldish. Yesterday was your deadline for the ‘promising patterns’ analysis. I’ve not seen anything on my desk.”

Poldish, red-faced and pudgy, turned an even brighter red. “It’s not quite finished. You see, the diversion of my group’s resources to Seine protection—”

“I don’t give a rat’s left testicle for your reasons. You tell me before if a piece of work is going to be late, not after. You’re a horse’s ass, Poldish. I’ll meet with you separately.”

Milly thought, Right. But first I have to humiliate you in public with a bit of animal imagery. Hannah had turned her way, and when no one was looking she gave Milly a quick wink. If it was designed to say, There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?, Milly wasn’t sure she could agree. For this, she had left Ganymede? For this, she had given up her three-year championship on the Puzzle Network, and the chance to ascend from Journeyman to Masters’ level? She must be crazy.

Hannah mouthed at her. Talk later.

Jack Beston was an equal opportunity employer. Milly didn’t make an exact count, but so far as she could tell everyone in the room came in for a personal roasting before the meeting was over. Hannah was chewed out for failing to give new staff an adequate briefing. Even Zetter, who seemed to have no first name and with whom Milly would certainly not like to argue, was blasted for her failure to scan the room for electronic devices, and so eliminate Milly’s scribe unit before it was ever turned on. The woman said nothing in response to Beston’s tirade, but her face turned pale and her dark eyes promised murder.

“Don’t let it worry you,” Hannah said, as she led Milly away at the end of the meeting. “That was a perfectly normal start to the week’s work. Come on, let’s go see if the arrays are picking up anything new.”

“He’s a bastard.”

“He is, but I’d suggest you don’t say so. Around here the word bastard is reserved for the distinguished leader of Project Odin, over at L-5.”

“When I was sitting in that meeting I thought I should have applied there, instead of here.”

“Not a good idea. You’d be no better off. Philip the Bastard is supposed to be more cunning than Jack the Ogre, but from what I’ve heard he’s an even bigger shit to work with.”

“Then they deserve each other. They ought to work together.”

“They once did. From what I’ve heard they were a perfect combination, Philip extremely sneaky and better on theory, Jack with the edge when it came to design of detection equipment. But Jack was two years younger, and you know how it is with brothers. Philip had been used to bossing Jack around when they were kids, but by the time Jack was nineteen he wouldn’t take it anymore.”

“He decided he’d rather dish it out.”

“Maybe. But you’re just pissed right now because of what he said to you. Don’t let it bother you. Didn’t you hear how he spoke to everybody?”

“I don’t care. Nobody has the right to talk to people like that.”

“Jack thinks he does.”

They were about to enter the main chamber for signal reception and initial scanning, and Hannah paused on the threshold. “Milly, there’s one other thing I want to say before we get to where others can hear. You look young enough to pass for a fresh-faced kid, but that won’t save you. Jack Beston finds you attractive — yes he does, don’t argue with me. I know the signs. And so far as I can tell his only two interests in life are the search for extraterrestrial intelligence and the seduction of new female workers. You can feel free to refuse—”